


Q's Secret Cock Room

by Castillon02



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 21:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13889478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castillon02/pseuds/Castillon02
Summary: Eventually, after what Q appeared to think was a suitable amount of time in a relationship, he told Bond about his secret cock room.





	Q's Secret Cock Room

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @beginte for the prompt (’sand,’ with bonus points for using it as a verb) and to @roseforthethorns for the beta and the patience.

Bond yawned and stretched out across Q’s mattress, his limbs heavy with post-coital laziness. Thank god they’d had the sense to go to Q’s. Not only did he not want to move, but Q’s flat was much closer to the airport, and Bond had an early flight. He didn’t even need to go back to his flat to pack; he had his go-bag tucked away in Q’s closet, ready and waiting for just such an occasion.  

Q lay next to him, his eyes half-lidded and his limbs sprawled. He made no move to grab his laptop or his mobile, only stared up at the ceiling and sighed a sigh that seemed, if Bond had to wager a guess, deeply contented.

“Hopefully thoughts of me will help keep you warm while I’m away,” Bond said, a bit smug.

“Hmm?” Q asked sleepily, and then, more awake, “Oh! Right.” He sighed, rather less contentedly, and sat up. “That reminds me. I have—err, a thing.”

“A thing?” Bond asked, raising his eyebrows at Q and letting his eyes drift downwards.

Q hopped out of bed, still delightfully nude. “A thing I meant to show you before you left,” he said.  

Bond gave up on preserving the afterglow and sat up. “Something good, I hope.”

An intriguing pink flush rose up on Q’s face. “Well, you’ll see, anyway,” he said, crossing the room.

Bond leaned forward and enjoyed the view of Q’s arse while Q pressed his palm to a wooden panel in the bookcase that Bond had always suspected was suspiciously smooth. Was he…? Yes–he was opening the secret room.

Bond had known about the room just because the dimensions of the house were off, but Q had kept mum about it, and Bond hadn’t been able to figure out how to get in without resorting to brute force. Now the bookcase slid across the floor, revealing a shadowy inner sanctum. What could Q be hiding? Weapons? Gadgets? More cats?

Q flicked the room’s light on.

Bond found himself staring at a wall of sex toys.

Anal beads on hooks like necklaces; cock rings nestled in velvet jewelry boxes; shelves of dildos and buttplugs organized by size and material; vibrators with their remotes perched next to them; and even a row of miscellaneous objects that Bond wasn’t too proud to admit he had no fucking idea about. Some were made of steel, some of smooth, polished wood, some of God knew what else—silicone, probably.   

“I made them all myself,” Q said with a proud tilt of his chin, glancing back at Bond to see his reaction.

“Well done,” Bond said faintly, still staring at the sexual smorgasbord. He walked over next to Q and peered inside. Once you got past the display in front of the door, the majority of the room was dedicated to a small workshop filled with work benches, tools, and boxes of materials. In the middle of the carpentry bench, a wooden work in progress jutted up proudly, still boxy and half-formed but unmistakably meant to become a cock and bollocks sometime in the future.

“It takes a while to do the wooden ones,” Q said. “I carve them and sand them by hand, and then I put on about two dozen thin coats of a special lacquer that makes them safe to use during sex. I formulated the lacquer myself, too—there are comparatively few commercial options available for this specific purpose,” he added wryly.  

Bond couldn’t help but laugh as his brain processed it all. “Well,” he said, “I suppose you won’t be that lonely in bed while I’m gone!”

“I don’t know,” Q said, smirking, “I might miss a few things about you.” He tugged Bond in front of him, and Bond let himself be moved so Q could wrap his arms around him and press a kiss to the nape of Bond’s neck. Q lingered there behind him, his hands resting comfortably in the V of Bond’s hips, his chest warm against Bond’s back, his soft cock tucked unselfconsciously against Bond’s arse.  

Bond shivered, staring again at Q’s wall of sex gadgets. Possibilities began to drift through his mind. How on earth had Q resisted the temptation of bringing these out?

“Which one’s your favorite?” Bond asked.

“I love all of my children equally,” Q began, only to jump when Bond’s elbow nudged him in the gut. “All right, all right—I might have a few favorites. That wooden one there,” he indicated a polished cherry wood dildo with pronounced bulbs along its length, not too thick but intriguingly curved at one end. “One or two of the vibrators. A few other things.” He pressed his hot face against Bond’s shoulder.    

“Are you blushing?” Bond asked, teasing. “You designed them, Q!” God, what would that wooden one look like, its slick dark length moving in and out of Q, designed specifically for Q’s pleasure?

While Bond fantasized, Q sputtered against his back. “But I don’t—I don’t talk about them with anyone! Well, except for other sex toy creators—I always seek out peer revision—but that’s all online. It’s not like…” Q swallowed behind him. “You know. Not like this.”

Bond resisted the urge to turn in Q’s arms. “You’ve never shown anyone else?” he asked, heat gathering low in his belly. Could this secret part of Q really be all his?

“It’s not exactly something you bring up with a casual shag,” Q said. He put on a smarmy voice. “‘Let me show you my etchings. And by the way, they’re blueprints for the dozens of sex toys I’ve created.’”

Bond snorted. True, his reaction might have been a little different if Q had thrown his cock room doors open on their first night together.

“I mostly enjoy them by myself,” Q admitted. “Or sometimes I’d have one already out, if I really wanted to use it with someone casual. But…I haven’t had casual since I was promoted.” Q rested his forehead on Bond’s shoulder, hiding his face even though Bond couldn’t see it.

“No?” Bond asked, aware of the way Q’s breath had caught, of the way Q’s grip around him had tightened before relaxing, ready to let go if Bond asked.

Bond wouldn’t ask. He might’ve, even a few months ago. But Q would never try to keep him if Bond didn’t want to be kept, and so Bond found himself tethered to Q by ropes of his own creation, ropes wrapped around Q like mooring lines.

“No,” Q confirmed, lifting his head, his breath hot against Bond’s nape.

“Good,” Bond said, smiling. “A casual shag could hardly help you test all of these out, and I’m looking forward to trying each and every one.”  

Q shifted behind him. “You do know I’m going to make new ones,” he said.

Toys as personalized to Bond as his Walther, as right for the both of them as Six. As this.

Bond turned in Q’s arms. “I’m counting on it,” he said, and kissed him.  

Would there be a few unsuccessful experiments along the way? Undoubtedly. But that was the nature of science. And of sex toys. And, Bond admitted to himself, of love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome. <3


End file.
